


Lock Picking

by Starl8



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Close Quarters, F/M, Locked In, bottle episode, partially resolved sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 17:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starl8/pseuds/Starl8
Summary: Phryne claims she can pick any lock.Written for this month's trope challenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the trope challenge. Written in one sitting, fitting this month's topic.
> 
> Plus: I am aware that the station is probably manned all night, but this was a necessity...

Hugh quietly clears his throat. 'Uhm..., Inspector? Miss Fisher?'

What was Hugh doing in his bedroom? And why was he inquiring about Miss Fisher?

* * *

10 hours earlier.

'So you claim to be able to pick ANY lock.'

'You know my level of dexterity is impeccable, Jack.' Phryne replies with a smirk.

'Even... The locks to our holding cells?'

'I would have them open in a wink.'

'I don't believe you!'

'Are you daring me, Jack Robinson? You know I can never resist an opportunity to prove you wrong.'

'I am not daring you. I'm just saying it can't be done.'

'Ooooh Jack...' Phryne says in a way that makes Jack dread what is about to follow.

'Drive me to the station!'

'What, NOW?'

'Of course, now.'

'Phryne, it's 10 pm and we're miles away from the station. I am NOT driving you to the station now.'

'Fine, then, we'll take my car.' Phryne counters, already halfway out the door.

'Phryne, wait!'

* * *

'So here we are, Miss Fisher. Locked in. Show me your magic' Jack challenges, the disbelief showing openly on his face.

Phryne steps in a little closer. 'Why don't we make this just a tad more fun?'

Before Jack can reply she snatches the keys from his fingers and throws them through the bars.

'Phryne!'

'No worries, Jack. We'll be out of here in a jiffy.' Phryne exclaims as she waltzes by him overconfidently. 'Here, hold my purse.'

Jack just stands there in utter disbelief, then sighs, having once again been outmanoeuvred by Phryne.

After a while he can hear Phryne grumbling. He knows better than to ask.

20 minutes, and at least twice as many curses, later, Phryne turns towards Jack.

'You wouldn't happen to have a flashlight on you, would you?'

'And where should I be hiding a flashlight?'

'Oh I can think of many places...' Phryne replies coyly, seemingly having briefly forgotten about the predicament they are in.

She turns back towards the lock and continues under huffing and puffing.

The look of Phryne, biting her lip in concentration, would actually be really cute, **if it were under different circumstances**.

'Phryne?'

'Just give me another minute.'

'Phryne??' Jack asks again, this time warningly.

'PHRYNE!'

'OK, Jack. You were right. It can't be done.'

'What do you mean, it can't be done?!?'

'The lock. It can't be picked.'

'What in the world... How are we going to get out of here?'

'We aren't. We'll have to wait until the station opens and someone lets us out.'

'Do you know how that will look???'

'Like we accidentally locked ourselves in?'

'You are going to be the death of me, Miss Fisher!'

'So what are we going to do now?'

'What is one to do in the middle of the night in a cell? Sleep!'

'Oh I can think of a couple of things' Phryne replies seductively.

'Would you like the left or the right bunk, Miss Fisher?' Jack quietly retorts.

'Jack Robinson, always the gentleman... The left.'

Jack lies down on the right bunk, demonstratively pulling his coat tighter around himself. When he looks over he notices that Phryne is lying there in her bare dress.

'Don't tell me you didn't bring a coat?'

'I was in a hurry. Plus, I didn't think I'd need one.'

'Oh Miss Fisher...'

Jack slowly gets up, covers her with his own jacket and returns to his bunk without so much as a word.

'Thank you, Jack!'

'Sleep well, Miss Fisher.'

10 minutes later he can hear her shiver like a leaf in the wind.

'Are you still cold?'

'Just a little bit.'

Knowing Phryne Fisher, she must be close to freezing to admit something like that.

'Come here.'

'Jack Robinson, are you inviting me into your bed?' Phryne asks, feigning shock.

'Just get over here.'

Phryne climbs over, snuggling tightly up to Jack, God knows only partially because the bed is so narrow.

'Good night, Phryne.'

'Good night, Jack.'

Jack immediately closes his eyes, and a few minutes later his breath has evened out.

Phryne can't keep her eyes off him. His beautiful face. The tranquillity she sees there. He seems like a statue. Carved out of marble by Michelangelo himself. If only she could touch him...

She carefully lifts her arm, reaching for Jack's jawline. She is mere inches away, and she realizes that she is actually trembling slightly. In all the jest she never would have thought that she would actually be nervous about touching him.

She reaches out, and just as her finger is about to brush against his skin he grabs both her wrists and pulls her on top of him.

It is too dark for her to read his expression, and she briefly wonders if he is going to scold her.

But then his lips are on hers, and he is kissing her hungrily. Phryne is so surprised she freezes for a fraction of a second, before she returns his kiss with matching fervour.

'Jack' she moans against his mouth. He is a skilful kisser. His kisses are full of passion, but the gentleman he is he lets her dictate the intensity. His deliberateness somewhat calms her down and she languidly stretches on top of him.

Jack returns her gesture by letting his hands wander down her back, only to lazily bring them up the back of her thighs again, stopping only at the hemline of her dress that has so conveniently slipped up. Phryne rewards him by pulling her knee up against him. Jack in return pushes up her dress.

Spurred on she nibbles hungrily along his lower lip towards the jawline she had barely dared touch mere minutes ago. She continues along his chin, covers his throat with featherlight kisses, until she reaches his shirt.

As she starts to unbutton his shirt he grabs both her wrists.

'Not here, not now.' he stops her huskily.

'When?' she moans desperately.

'As soon as someone lets us out of this cell.'

Phryne reluctantly draws back. She knows he is right, but oh how she wishes he wasn't.

When they have settled down again, Jack tenderly kisses her goodnight.

'Jack?' Phryne mumbles, as she is falling asleep.

'Hmmmm?'

'I am glad I lost the bet!'

* * *

Hugh quietly clears his throat. 'Uhm..., Inspector? Miss Fisher?'

What was Hugh doing in his bedroom? And why was he inquiring about Miss Fisher?

The whole night comes crashing back.

'Hugh! Has anyone else...?'

'No, sir. I am the first one here.'

Finally Phryne also opens her eyes.

'Oh, Hugh. Good morning. Lovely to see you.'

'Miss Fisher.' Hugh replies, barely daring to look at her in her dishevelled state.

'Sir, can I get you anything?'

'Just the key lying over there. Then Miss Fisher and I will be on our way. We have important business to attend to this morning.'


End file.
